


All Hit The Deck (with their hands behind the neck)

by starkind



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cruise Ship, BAMF Bruce Wayne, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Hostage Situations, Iron Man 3 Compliant, IronBat - Freeform, Post-Batman Begins, Silly, Snarky Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summertime, sunshine, and a billion-dollar mega-liner powered by ARC reactor technology.<br/>If he was honest with himself, Tony really could use a vacation, but - this?<br/>Sometimes you just cannot pick and choose your fellow travellers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have to refrain hard from making any shipping puns, seeing there's a real vessel in this one. In any case, this little fic is just meant as something light - seeing it's summertime, people go on vacation... that kind of thing. If you haven't got the chance to go on a cruise, don't worry, neither have I. Meaning all of this is basically word of mouth. Keep that in mind? Great! Let's cast off! 
> 
> NB: This is set post-IM3, but the events of TDK and TDKR have not happened, even if I hate screwing with timelines (oh the joys of crossover AUs)

The “Splendor of Opulence” was the world's newest and most luxurious cruising ship to set sail that year. Or so Tony had been told. He had never cared much for putting himself on a swimming high-rise box that defied gravity with a vigor. If he wanted to yacht, he would do that in private, with a couple of hot people around, bass-laden music, some badass flyboards or jetskis, and plenty of booze.

That might actually be fun.

But this?

This was elder people with wrinkly skin on display, smelling like sun protection cream from a mile away, and all of the swimming luxury of a huge shopping mall with food court and a kids play area.

“You're going to be fine, stop fidgeting.”

Pepper Potts stood next to her gloomy boss, wore a preppy nautical dress with heels, and busied herself with her phone. Dressed in an electric blue linen suit with no socks and a pair of Missoni-designed All Star Chuck's, Stark frowned behind his shades and tried to glimpse at her screen. “Why did we agree I do this again?” She straightened up further on her three-inch heels, preventing him from reading along.

“Because _you_ wanted to be the first person ever to run an entire cruise liner on clean ARC reactor energy. Also, _you_ deemed it a great idea to transfer over a third of the shipyard's stock to Stark Industries.” Tony made a small noise that could have stood for anything and rubbed his neck. “Huh. Never let me drunk-decide those type of things again.”

Pepper looked up briefly before she continued typing. “It was June last year during a business lunch, and you were stone cold sober.” He clicked his tongue. “Shame on me. No, shame on _you_ for still knowing that. Do you also remember what I had for lunch that day?” Man, he was cantankerous today. Without looking up Pepper's lips stretched into a humorless smile.

“Asparagus and pastrami salad.”  
  
A moment of silence passed in between them as Tony stared at her until she finally put her phone back into the little raffia clutch bag. “Put up a more photogenic expression – reporter crowd at six o'clock.” Tony shook his head but assumed a cocky playboy stance and put his elbows on the banister. Together with his PA, he watched the swarm of paparazzi and journalists gather at the Floridian cruise center's pier.

Stroking his goatee, Tony pointed down. “What's with all the hoopla?” Pepper adjusted her Jackie O sunglasses and followed his gaze. "Bruce Wayne is supposed to do the christening of the ship.” Tony put two fingers to his pair of dark-tinted glasses and pulled them down slightly to throw her a bewildered look over the rim. “That twit? Oh, _c'mon!_ Who decided that?”

She shrugged. “Well, since it's Wayne Yards, Wayne Steel, and Wayne Shipping which have ordered, supplied and manufactured most of the ship's hardware...” The rest of her sentence was left up in the air. Tony gave some sort of whistle for comedy measure and pushed his shades back up with a finger. “That's a lot of Wayne. Seriously, Potts, you could've warned a guy here.”

Just then the shouting from down below increased. A tall, dark-haired man dressed in a pair of white chinos, a light blue button down shirt without tie, and a navy blue jacket with a pocket square made his way through the crowd, waving left and right and smiling broadly for the cameras.

“Well, there he is.”  
Upon Pepper's dry observation, Tony squinted as he scanned his billionaire counterpart from head to toe.  
“Twenty bucks the guy's gonna mess up his part. He might be too busy checking his reflection.”

“Don't be silly.”

“Okay, fifty bucks. Oh, and he's totally going to make a retarded joke about drinking the stuff.”

“I'm not betting with you.”

“You're no fun, Peps.”

“I'm a _lot_ of fun, Tony. So much fun actually that I came down all the way to Florida with you just to spend five nights on a floating horizontal skyscraper with thousands of other people, instead of dealing with matters at hand at SI.” Tony's fingers drummed a little melody upon the massive chrome railing. “Y'know, it sounds real bad when you say it like that.”

Her accurately painted red lips curled and she squared her shoulders, looking past him towards the entrance area of the ship's massive bow. “Okay now, looks like they are coming up. Ready for your turn of shake-hands and play pretend you like each other?” He nodded and cracked his neck. Without hesitation, Pepper administered a final, quick once-over on his person, picking at invisible lint on the lapels of his jacket.

“Yea, yea, yea, stop fussin, Pep. Selling soap never was more appealing. I'm gonna smile him to death.” Seconds later, the first reporters entered the vast deck, cameras clicking into Tony's and Pepper's direction, to which Stark flashed his trademark victory sign. The journalists then turned to capture the moment Bruce Wayne and the cruise liner's captain stepped out on the upper deck side by side.

“And here we go.”  
Tony's words were barely a murmur between a set of fake-smiling teeth as Wayne laid eyes on him.  
“Stark! Long time no see.”

The Gothamite spread his arms wide to go with a huge and most of all vapid smile. Tony mimicked it.  
“Been a while, Wayne. And it only took $1,4 billion of construction cost to get both of us together in one place.”  
Said man then extended his hand, which Tony took after a moment of initial hesitation.

“Really? That expensive? Guess I should pay better attention to what deals my CEO wraps up.” Tony suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, seeing he had already taken off his sunglasses. Around them, shutters were still running wild, and he snuck an arm around Pepper's shoulders. “It's why I took mine along for the ride.” Bruce took off his shades, and his eyes lit up as he focused on the redhead.

“It's Mrs. Potts, isn't it?”  
Pepper's long fingers slid back after Wayne had indicated a kiss to her knuckles.  
“Actually it's Ms. Potts.”  
  
The other man's expression turned into a politely concealed smolder.  
“I'm even more delighted.”  
Tony's grip around Pepper's shoulders tightened on its own concord.  
  
“Okay, I think we should get started now. But not a scratch there, Wayne, this is a brand new vessel.” At his quip, the Gothamite laughed out loud as if Tony had just told him the greatest joke on earth. It prompted Stark to near cringe with second-hand embarrassment. “Haha, yes, that would be unfortunate, very unfortunate indeed, especially if it's as expensive as you said. Don't worry, I will do my best.”

As Bruce walked over to where the ceremony was about to take place, Tony and Pepper positioned themselves to the left of the semi-circle. Speeches from the shipyard's management and the captain himself followed, until a petite blonde stewardess handed Wayne a pair of scissors.

“I can truly hope there will be more of this” Bruce tapped the large champagne bottle attached to a thick, satin ribbon. “For us to drink, instead of feeding it to the ship's hull.” Polite laughter of crew and reporters accompanied his lame joke. Tony gave some quiet, pain-filled whine into Pepper's ear. “There go my fifty bucks.” Her only reaction was a pointy elbow that poked inconspicuously into his side.

It took the prince of Gotham City two tries until he was able to cut the ribbon in half.  
The bottle smashed against the hull, and applause filled the air.  
“To many safe sails aboard the Splendor of Opulence!”  
  
Wayne looked around with a simpering smile.  
"See, Tony? Not a scratch."  
Stark barely suppressed an audible groan.

 


	2. Chapter 2

A stunning lounge surrounded by two-story panoramic views provided the ideal location for the official photo shoot of Stark, Wayne, and the ship's captain. While both billionaires gave their best smiles, Wayne left it to Tony to throw up victory signs. As soon as the press had left the vessel, the inaugural cruise began, heading for the Caribbean with stops at the Bahamas and St. Thomas.

Among the many venues and attractions aboard were a skydiving simulator, a surfing simulator, a mechanical observation capsule that lifted guests 300 feet above sea level, an IMAX cinema, and even an ice rink. Tony had immediately dismissed all of it as not to his liking. After freshening up in their respective rooms, he met up with his CEO again.

“How's your suite?”

By now he was dressed in a pair of bright green swim shorts and a white t-shirt; eyes hidden behind a pair of Matsuda sunglasses with custom red lenses. Pepper had put her hair up in a bun and wore a sheer cover-up tunic over a red bikini.

“The ocean view is fantastic.”

He threw a pleased glimpse down to where her feet made flip-flopping sounds and enjoyed being of almost equal height. “Not really different from the mansion's view, but yeah, kinda nice. Did you bring sun screen?” She held the beach bag dangling from her arm into his direction and he dug in. “SPF 50? Man. That's like staying indoors.” Tony started spraying his forearms as they walked on.

“Don't like, don't use.” A slender hand tried to snatch the bottle from him, but he drew away. Pepper relented and instead grabbed two large fluffy towels from a nearby stack. “Have you already paid a visit to the ship's mechanical area?” He rubbed the milky lotion into his skin and shook his head. “Not yet.” With a calculated toss, Tony then threw the spray back into her large straw tote.

“Think I'll save that for later when the first bingo round of the evening rolls in and I need to run and hide.”

They stepped out onto the biggest pool area of the ship and headed straight for the reserved VIP lounge. Much to Tony's chagrin, Bruce Wayne was there as well; already occupying his half of the exclusive area. He was surrounded by a flock of beautiful, young, and scantily-clad women in bikinis. Once he had spotted them, he raised a jaunty hand in greeting. Pepper smiled and waved back.

Tony graced him with a halfhearted thumbs up and dropped into the recliner next to his female company.  
“Most of the ship's filled with sea hags and codgers, and Wayne manages to scrounge up hot jailbait. Go figure.”  
She pursed her lips and lowered herself gracefully in her seat.  
  
“Well, he's rich.”  
A disparaging snort was Tony's answer as he was busy adjusting the recliner's backrest.  
“So am I. He's got nothing on me.”

Sardonic tug around the mouth, Pepper crossed her ankles and reached for the cool drink on the left.  
“Except for a good 5 years, 3 inches, and the benefit of a carefree outlook on the world.”  
She had to bite her bottom lip to prevent a giggle at the hard, scornful glare thrown her way.

“Low blow, Potts, low blow. For the record: I'm 43 and a genius billionaire superhero. And this hot bod,” He gave a showcasing wave all the way up and down. “Is just the cherry on top of an all-around awesome package. Fact is - it doesn't get any more prime than me. Also, that's not a carefree outlook on the world – it's called dumbassery.” 

Seeing he was not about to get any support other than an eye roll from his longtime companion, Tony focused his glare back on Wayne. Much to his surprise, the other billionaire was still watching them. Or rather, he was watching Tony. Feeling awkward, Stark groped for his tropical drink. Wayne then toasted him with his own beverage, leaving Tony no choice but to return the gesture.

It almost caused him to poke his left eye out on the stupid cocktail paper umbrella.  
Annoyed, he leaned back, crossed his arms behind his neck and closed his eyes.  
Soaking up the warm rays of the sun, Tony did not take long to succumb to a light nap.

* * *

After what could not have been more than half an hour, screeching high-pitched, female voices and giggles echoed across the poolside. “Go Brucie, go Brucie!” When Tony blinked his eyes open, he saw the Gothamite getting ready to tackle the surfing simulator. A big white Wayne Enterprises trident logo adorned the blue ground of the machine that produced never-ending waves.

Pepper also looked up from her Vogue magazine and regarded the scene with interest.  
Tony threw her a shrewd, sideways glance.  
“Oh, yes. Yes, please. He's gonna make a fool out of himself in public. I'm so here for this douche-a-palooza.”

Wayne, who had kept his long-sleeved black shirt on, stood at the rim and dipped a toe into the current. “He might surprise all of us.” No sooner than Pepper had voiced her objection, the Gothamite stepped onto the board and into the Flowrider. He instantly wobbled on the spot, only to splash backwards into the water seconds later. Tony laughed out loud and clapped his hands, despite Pepper's tries to shush him.

After his first wipeout, Wayne was quick to get back on his feet. He brushed wet bangs out of his forehead and waved at his female cheering squad with an apologetic simper. When he made his way over to get handed a new board and give it another try, Tony could not help but to cup his mouth. “C'mon, Brucie – make Laurel and Hardy proud.”

It was then that Wayne's gaze fell upon them again. Because of the sun shimmering upon the water reflection, it remained unclear if he was squinting in irritation or not. With a nimble little push, Bruce slid onto the board and into the shallow water, remaining upright with knees bent. When he performed a couple of bottom turns and other daring moves, his female cheering squad whooped out loud.

Pepper dipped her sunglasses low and regarded the show for a couple of seconds. “Seems to me he knows what he's doing.” Tony glared at the girls who shrieked each time Wayne whooshed past close enough to spray them with fountains of water. He shifted in his recliner and grumbled along. “Likely a first.”  
  
After two minutes of an aplomb show, Bruce deliberately dropped backward off his board and slid out of the machine's flow on his back, arms and legs spread like an eagle. He rose from the artificial surge in a Baywatch-worthy jog and high-fived the instructors' outstretched hands along the way. Some girl handed him a towel which he put around his shoulders as he walked on over to where Tony and Pepper sat.

He rubbed his hair and beamed down at them.  
“How about trying out a round, Miss Potts?”  
While his CEO giggled like a schoolgirl and waved him off, Tony's mouth held a cynic pinch.

“Of course you're not daring to ask the real pro here.”  
Bruce's grin turned even broader. And infinitely more stupid, at least in Tony's book.  
“I figured you're so used to gravity-defying situations, this is way beneath you.”

With vigor, Tony removed his shades and handed them over into Pepper's waiting hands.  
“Damn straight it is.”  
After getting wiped out three times in a row, Stark stalked back over to his recliner, dripping wet.  
  
“Not a word, Potts. Not a word.”  
Pepper disappeared behind her fashion magazine; albeit not fast enough for her boss to not notice her grin.  
Wayne thankfully had again been occupied enough with his female squadron to see Tony hobble off to favor his stubbed pinkie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brucie's stellar performance inspired by this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IX0qx3m_J5s


	3. Chapter 3

Live piano music accompanied them on formal night with its exalted gala dinner.

To the sounds of smooth Bossa Nova Jazz, Tony led his company through the rows of banquet tables; not without a certain sense of pride. Pepper wore a teal-colored cocktail dress that complimented her pinned updo, decent makeup, and a pair of strappy nude heels. They stopped at the bar, about to be seated, and he took the time to let his gaze travel down to her feet again.

"How can you even stand on these things. The damn ship rocks. Constantly. It never stops rocking."   
The bartender got them the first drinks of the evening, and Pepper thanked him with a soft smile.  
"You should have taken Dramamine."  
  
At that Tony let go of his drink to watch the crystal glass slightly dip to the side.  
“Nah, I should've worked on some massive shock absorbers for the whole damn thing to stay still.”  
Pepper twirled the little olive on a stick within her Martini.  
  
“It's not that bad.”  
Tony downed his shot of bourbon and let the tumbler slide down the counter once again.  
“It's likely going to take a full two days afterward to adjust my body."  
  
His deliberate attempt at whining prompted her to blink at him with fond exasperation.  
“Says the man who spends hours inside a metal Mach 2 suit that mocks gravity with a vengeance.”  
He bared his teeth at her teasing tone and nodded at the man behind the bar who got a hold of his empty glass.

“My CEO has risen, armed with exasperation and common sense in spades. And it's Mach 3 by now, sweetheart.” His comical intonation got Pepper to smile and shake her head, despite her tries to stay serious. “You're acting stupid.” The maître d' approached them before Tony's shark-like grin could get any wider, and made an inviting gesture at the couple.

“A table is waiting for you and your fiancée, Mister Stark.”  
In less than a second, Pepper's cheeks adopted a healthy shade of pink.  
“Oh, err.. no, I'm not – we're not...”

All professional, the chief waiter overlooked the awkward situation and led them over to a private table on the side of the large dining room. To cover up, Tony straight out asked for another whiskey on the rocks. Once the man in his white uniform was out of earshot, Stark tilted his head and flipped the menu up.

“A real confidence breaker, Potts. Wow.”  
His opposite looked truly embarrassed.  
“I'm sorry, it just... ”  
  
He looked at her over the rim. A twinkle was in his eyes, together with something honest and also vulnerable.  
“Felt like a natural reflex? Be a little more careful with my emotional baggage there, it's designer.”  
With those words, Tony put the menu down and drummed his fingers upon the edge of the table.  
  
“You're still not over it.”  
Pepper's voice was low and slightly worried. He clicked his tongue and shook his head.  
“Nah, it's fine. Really. We agreed, and it's fine.”  
  
A waiter with Tony's drink interrupted her potential answer. While Pepper placed her order, Tony found himself contemplating the past few months. They had stopped pretending to be a picture-perfect couple after the huge Mandarin fiasco, Pepper's Extremis cure, and his cardiac surgery. It was then that Tony had gone and eradicated another false pretense, finally admitting his bisexuality both to her and himself.

Afterwards, their relationship had been sketchy for a little while, until it had reached a new level of understanding. Part of him wondered why he had not told her sooner; another, more distinctive part of him knew just why: Occasions like the present. Getting reminded you're no serious-commitment-material sucked, no matter the gender; no nice way to sugarcoat it.

“Ah, Miss Potts, Tony. Why are you sitting over here in the back? Come on over and sit with us.”  
At Wayne's dulcet voice Tony wondered if he had spaced out so much he did not notice the man's arrival. He forced a false smile on his face.  
“Fraid not, Brucie – this is a dinner for two occasion.”

At that, Wayne actually pouted at him. He turned briefly to check if his female company was out of earshot and leaned in. “Too bad. Don't think I'm giving up, though – Miss Potts has got to grant me at least one dance.” The way Pepper was back at stage one of making moon eyes at Wayne was truly irksome. “Careful there, Brucie, I might just have to go chat up your date and finally get behind Victoria's _real_ secret.”

His succulent jibe elicited a chuckle, and the Gothamite cast another look over his shoulder to look for the blonde model sitting a few rows further up front, at the captain's table. “Ah, that is fine with me. You see, Sand... err, Samantha has a degree in philosophy. You should get along fine.” Tony almost made himself dizzy with his affirmative nodding. “Bet that makes for some fantastic small talk.”  
  
Bruce joined in, oblivious to Tony's voice that was sarcasm dripping wet.  
“Yes, her insights on the theory about our universe are outstanding.”  
Stark heaved a deep sigh from the bottom of his core.

“Oh, boy, I didn't know we have a deipnosophist on board.”  
Wayne's simpering facade never wavered.  
“You are certainly something, Tony. Anyways, enjoy dinner. I've heard the broiled lobster tail is excellent.”

As soon as Bruce had left, Tony started mutilating the table cloth with the butter knife.  
“Such a shame, really.”  
Pepper's hand on his haltered his motions.

“What is?”  
Stark's eyes flickered into the Gothamite's direction and watched him take a seat next to the captain.  
“Such promising DNA, all put to waste.”

“Sounds to me as if _you'd_ rather have that dance with him.”  
Tony snorted, with as much dismay as he was able to pour into it, and dropped the knife.  
“Sure don't.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Waiters with gloves started to swarm the dining room, indicating the first round of the captain's welcome dinner. Instead of serving food, however, they went through the motions of a choreographed dance routine, swinging hips and at the same time linen napkins over their heads to the sounds of 'Blurred Lines'. The Californian billionaire drowned his groan within another gulp of scotch.  
  
“I'm definitely not drunk enough for that level of second-hand embarrassment yet.”  
At Tony's dry observation, Pepper nipped at her Chardonnay.  
“That's even more alarming than the show itself.”

After roasted pumpkin soup, tilapia fillet for her and prime rib beef for him, the mood between them eventually started to lift. Tony had gone over to shedding his jacket and had hung it over the backrest of his chair. He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “... and of course Steve would have objections, but really now, that sanctimonious beacon of glory would never understand the need for global protection.”

Pepper tilted the empty little espresso cup back and forth. “I don't think Captain Rogers sounds unreasonable at all. You have just gone and pulverized all of your suits, and now you're already thinking about building a new army of...” His brows had furrowed enough for Pepper to know she was teetering on the edge of a full-blown Stark tirade. Tony's features then morphed from irritation to straight up exasperation.

“Uh-oh, watch out. Douchebag alert at 9 o'clock.”  
  
She whirled her head around and saw Bruce Wayne making his way over to their table once more. A sarcastically smirking Tony then earned himself a reproachful glare. “Just for that completely unnecessary comment I am going to take up his offer, and there is nothing you can do about it.” Pepper then put up a winsome expression as the Gothamite stopped in front of her and indicated a little bow.

“May I?”  
  
At the gallantly offered hand, Pepper's glance went to the man sitting next to her, daring him to object. Tony scrunched up his nose in faux affection. “Go jump into the conga line, Pep.” Before they left, the Gotham billionaire shed his jacket, dropping it unceremoniously into Tony's not-waiting lap. “Hmm, I do think it's called a mambo, actually, and I promise I'll return her safe and sound.”  
  
One final sugary smolder and Bruce was gone, Pepper by his side. Her eyes still flickered back over to Tony one more time as she followed Wayne over onto the dance floor. Once the music set it, they soon had found their place amid the crowd with ease. It was then that Stark all but dumped the Gothamite's jacket aside. An Armani tailor-made stitching greeted him as the fabric bunched up on Pepper's empty chair.  
  
“What a prick.”  
  
He rolled his eyes, leaned back and slurped the rest of his drink. His wary gaze stayed on the lookout for any creeping move Wayne might make on his CEO. If he had been out for a comical reenactment, however, Tony got disappointed. The mambo Wayne had swirled his redhead dancing partner into soon turned rather professional; from basic back-and-forward steps to side steps, swivels, and crossover turns.

At some point, Tony then had to all-but force himself to stop staring at the rhythmic way Wayne's hips moved to the music. Instead, he stood up, walked to the bar and got himself yet another drink on the rocks. The fact that dim-witted Bruce Wayne of all people had managed to make his pants tighten angered him beyond belief. As he stood and nursed the dark cloud above his head, he nipped at his glass.

“Nothing but a pretty ass.”

“What was that, sonny?”

The Californian billionaire all but startled. An elder woman no taller than 4'11 with a tasteful, but still obvious wig looked him up and down as she stood next to him. If he had worn a hat, Tony would have felt a pressing need to take it off in a chivalrous gesture. He opted for an incline of the head, combined with a toothy smile, and put the full tumbler of scotch aside.

“Ma'am.”  
Quick to take his leave, Tony made sure to catch Pepper's eye and gestured between himself and the outside area.  
He saw her nodding, also caught Wayne's fleeting glance, and stepped out the buzzing dining hall.

* * *

“Approaching target zone. Prepare for drop off.”

The parachuting teams moved as one, getting in position. Gemini inflatables were hurled from a large, futuristic-looking aircraft which hovered in the air on stealth mode night vision. A never-ending stream of black-clad, masked individuals started to take the dive into the dark sea. They hit the surface of the dark ocean close to the afloat Geminis, all secured by a ring-mane of rope.

The sealed equipment hidden inside the inflatables got distributed within fifteen minutes.  
The final packages to be dropped from the helicopter held outboard motors and engine fuel.  
“All weapons set. We're moving in.”  
  
"Roger that. ETA 10 minutes."  
With a cut of the ring-mane, the group started to make their way over to the huge cruise liner looming above.  
The military aircraft veered away quietly on noise reduction rotor blades, leaving the scene as unobtrusive as it had entered it.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The sounds of Frank Sinatra's 'Come fly with me' echoed through the vast ballroom. By now, Bruce and Pepper had switched from Latin dance to a classic foxtrot routine. After swaying her into a flawless promenade followed by an underarm turn, the Gotham billionaire beamed down at his company. “Miss Potts, you are truly a delightful dancer.”

“Why thank you, Mister Wayne, the same goes for you.”

“It's Bruce, please, and I really mean it. Tony can consider himself a very lucky man.”

She slightly inclined her head.  
  
“I do what I can to keep the company running at a profit.”

“I was not only talking about the business part.”  
  
Her left hand that was resting on his arm twitched on its own. Pepper blinked through long lashes and avoided his intense eyes. “Oh, no, no. That is... that matter has been... resolved.” Bruce's expression never wavered as he led her into another smooth left turn. “I... see. Forgive me, Miss Potts.” She was quick to put up a composed smile and found his gaze once more.  
  
“Pepper.”  
At her statement, his fake exposure of teeth seemed to lessen and turned into something more real.  
“Pepper. I didn't mean to bring up troublesome matters.”

Her smile also turned softer. “No worries, please. Tony is and will always be my best friend. Nothing is going to change that.” Wayne nodded, all serious, and refastened his hold on her right hand. “It is no wonder he doesn't like me then.” A subtle note of regret or reproach swung within his statement. She allowed herself to shrug lightly, mid-dance.

“Well, he's... going through a lot of changes at the moment, of the various kind.” All understanding, the Gothamite then nodded, doing a quick sweeping look around. “I hope he is doing alright – he did look a bit pale around the nose.” The band stopped playing, and Bruce released Pepper's hands for them to turn to the stage and clap. “You are right - maybe I should go and have a look.”  
  
Bruce proceeded to walk her off the dance floor, looking around to find his own female company standing at the bar, surrounded by deck officers and several other, male guests. “Since it looks like my presence's not required at the moment, let me escort you outside.”

* * *

Thanks to the captain's dinner that was still well underway, Tony was alone out on the main pool deck.

He scorned at the meanwhile turned off Flowrider and marched over to lean against the balustrade. Rubbing a thumb against a calloused spot inside his palm, he exhaled loud and deep. The alcohol was starting to kick in, and made him feel mellowed out enough to not worry about having to defend Pepper against the advances of the Gotham glib. She was single, a grown-up woman, and very much able to defend herself.

Yup, she would be fine. But, Tony mused, would he?

After looking into the dark nothingness of the ocean for the longest time, he decided to try and walk off his maudlin state. Hands buried deep in the pockets of his tailor-made tuxedo, Tony strolled past folded up mountains of recliners and umbrellas, large plant tubs and pool equipment. Before he could reach the outer staircase back up to the dining hall, he rounded a corner and bumped into something tall and hard.

“Sorry, pal.”

He caught his step and brushed a hand across his chest, over the spot where the reactor used to sit.  
  
About to move past, Tony then looked up and saw... black.

“Freeze.”  
  
Befuddled, Tony squinted at the muzzle of the rifle pointed his way. “Hmm. Never thought I'd say this, but your little waiters' dancing routine earlier was better. What's this gonna be? Speed 2 – The Musical?” In a move too fast to foresee, the butt of the rifle slammed into Tony's stomach, making him grunt. “Hands behind your head... as long as you still have one.” From where he was doubling over, Tony squinted upwards, incensed.

“Now wait a second, fella – do you even know who I am?”

It was then that an out of nowhere choke hold gripped the masked guy's throat from behind.

A hand clasped over the man's mouth and face, muffling any kind of scream that threatened to bubble up to the surface. Mere seconds later, the masked man dropped to the floor, unconscious. Aghast, Tony took in the grotesque scene of the rifle being thrown overboard, before he found himself dragged into a small chamber, along with the out cold goon at his feet.

With a deep breath, he then glared from the person on the floor up at the serene face of the cruise's biggest thorn in his side.  
“What the fuck?! What the _actual fuck_ , Wayne? Are you freaking _nuts?!”_  
Lightning fast, the Gothamite covered his mouth with cool fingers, brows furrowing in annoyance.  
  
“Be quiet. They are going to hear us.”  
As soon as Tony was able to speak again, he lowered his voice but kept its incredulity.  
“Who is? What are they going to hear?”  
  
Part of Tony feared that Wayne's mental status might encompass a wider range than pure dimwit. The guy now looked at him like he could easily pull off serial killer, which was as much worrisome as it was hilarious. Maybe Brucie was a little schizo who would go and simper him to death before throwing his body overboard and riding -pardon, _sailing_ \- off into the sunset with Pepper Potts.

He should really stop drinking, Tony mused.

“We've got company. Armed and dangerous company.”  
Wayne's pragmatic voice cut through Tony's faltering mind and provoked another terrifying thought.  
“... Pepper!? Where is Pepper? God help you if you left her all by herself...”

The Gothamite looked at him as if he had just suggested cannibalism.  
“I walked her back to her suite before they could get into the dining room and start taking hostages.”  
Immediately Tony groped for his mobile and drew away as Wayne tried to hinder him from using it.  
  
“Paws off. Triple-secured satellite connection, no one's gonna locate it if I don't want them to.”  
The line got picked up at first ring, much to his relief, and the screen filled with her worried face.  
“ _Tony? Tony!_ God, where _are_ you!?”  
  
Having no real answer to that, he shrugged.  
“Where are _you?”_  
Wayne's left eyebrow twitched at the unnecessary question.  
  
“I'm in my room, but...” A patch of static disrupted their connection, causing Tony to wave his phone around. After a few seconds, they had visual again. “I'm coming for you, don't worry. Until then go and barricade the door.” A faint curl of glossy lips. "Stay away, you'd only lead them here. I've got it under control.” At the sight of the massive nightstand lamp in her hand which she held up like a baseball bat, Tony sagged in alleviation.

“I know you have, sweetheart. Just stay there and be careful for time being.”  
Pepper nodded, composed as always.  
“What are you going to do?”

He cast his silent company a quick look.  
“Me and Yosemite Sam here are going to think of something.”  
The pair of furrowed brows in the back went past Tony unnoticed. Pepper cocked her head.

“... Yosemite Sam?”  
Stark allowed a small smirk to creep through.  
“Looks like Brucie Wayne can do more than just look stupid.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

After leaving the still unconscious guard bound and gagged in the back of the storage room, Bruce and Tony started making their way back to the grand ballroom. A continuous flow of uniformed terrorists made them retreat to duck behind large pipes and stacked up lifeboats ever so often. “How many do you think we're dealing with here?”  
  
Tony spoke in a low voice, pressing his body flat into the wall when another small patrol rounded the corner. “Hard to say. Enough to round up most of the guests. Except for the one they're looking for.” Bruce's countenance remained emotionless even as realization kicked in with his counterpart. “Means they're gonna come looking for us sooner or later.” Stark pulled a face bordering on worried annoyance.  
  
“Us? _You_ , rather. The ship's technology is yours, Iron Man.”  
At Wayne's matter-of-fact voice, Tony tutted along in affirmation.  
“Right, I'm the genius, you're just the billionaire bimbo. But maybe they're in it for the _big_ money.”

Bruce did not bother to look at him, so Tony hunkered down and peeked around a pile of crates. “We're stuck on a boat thousands of miles away from land with an unknown number of terrorists. I'd say...” The Gothamite cut him off by starting to walk along one of the many dark and empty hallways as soon as the perimeter was clear for the moment. Their dress shoes echoed on the metal floors of the ship.

"Most of the hostages are American tourists. If the word gets out, they're gonna deploy SEALS and Delta Force. We gotta make an emergency call, and fast.” Leaving it to Wayne to keep an eye out for their opponents, Tony reached for his mobile again, only to twist his mouth in grim dismay soon after. "Bad cellular connections in the Caribbean. If we get to St Thomas, we'd have full phone and data. There are AT&T towers."

It was then that Wayne held up a hand for him to stop as he stole a glimpse around the corner. When Tony bumped into him nonetheless, Bruce cast him a rotten look. “Yes, _if._ They might have another course in mind. We have to get control of this ship.” He walked on as Stark pocketed his useless device and harrumphed. “Lord knows how many hundred armed terrorists are out there. I'd sure love to watch us try.”

He closed up to walk side by side with Wayne. The latter narrowed his eyes at him. “You haven't brought even one of your armored suits along?” At the accusatory tone, Stark all but bristled in his face. “Look, man, it was called the house party protocol, I don't have to explain a fucking thing to you, and no, I got nothing.” True to nature, Bruce left his existent dissatisfaction unspoken.

“Then we have to find another way to move around more freely.”  
Tony crossed his arms over his chest and pointed his chin ahead.  
“By the way, we're running in circles here, in case you haven't noticed.”

Thanks to the Splendor's complex floor plans and layouts, all hallways, doors, elevators, and staircases looked alike. "The even floors are dis-contiguous. On this deck, it's impossible to walk from aft to bow in one shot." The Gothamite's voice held a scornful tinge to which Tony only scoffed. “You say that like it's my fault! I'm not the architect of this swimming coffin!”

“Shh.”  
  
Bruce put his finger to his lips and pointed ahead. Tony's eyes widened at the scenery in front. A group of ten armed terrorists stood with their backs towards them. On quiet soles, the two men stepped back unnoticed. Hunkering down in close proximity, Tony and Bruce then shared a look. Eventually, the Californian billionaire's lips stretched in a roguish smile and he leaned over to whisper in Wayne's ear.  
  
“I have an idea.”

* * *

“Ssssssorry, fellas....”

At the slurred voice, all weapons turned into its direction. Swaying on the spot, his white dress shirt wrongfully buttoned up and untucked, the dark-haired man grinned at the group of masked men and giggled. He playfully raised his arms into the air, wobbling some more. “I musta stepped out on t' wrong floor. This ain' the casino?”

As soon as they started out into his direction, guns up in his face, Tony forced down the urge to run. His courage got rewarded only seconds later as something moved soundlessly from high above, out of the shadows, and began taking action. He had to admit - witnessing Wayne felling ten armed terrorists single-handedly was kind of awesome blockbuster material.

In less than five minutes, all that was left of them was a groaning mess on the ground, about to get bound and gagged. Stark grabbed a rifle and sneered into their faces. “The tide is turning, fellas, eh?” He brandished the weapon around with glee, to which Wayne eventually put his hand on the muzzle. “No guns.” A stupefied blink out of dark-brown eyes.

“What was that?”  
From where he was busy stripping down two men of equal height to him and Stark, Wayne grunted.  
“We're not adding any blood to our hands.”  
  
Bruce's gruff voice elicited a lopsided snarl from Tony. “Thank you, Captain Edge-Lord. Anyone else on team conscience here?” He mock-looked around. “No? Well, then, we do as I say. Besides, the other creeper dudes would call us out on running around unarmed.” Wayne's determined voice never wavered. “No one gets killed.” Stark narrowed his eyes as the other man began to undress in front of him, down to his boxer briefs.

“Considering that view, I wouldn't be too sure.”  
At his leering tone, Bruce zipped the black overall up with a resolute motion.  
“I'm serious. Go change.”

A pile of clothes got shoved into Tony's hand. “Yeah, I'm serious too, y'know? No offense buddy, but unlike you, I ain't a secret super Saiyan, and I plan on staying alive around here, thank you very much. If the bad guys shoot at me, I shoot back.” The Gothamite pulled the balaclava on until it covered the upper part of his face. Tony stared at him long and hard for a moment.

“Why do you think they're shooting at you, to begin with?”

Plucking at the stolen uniform of their attackers, Stark then regarded the Kraken-like emblem on his upper arm. “Whoever they are, they have some shitty corporate design going on there.” He proceeded to stalk off to the far corner of the room, stepping over the secured heap of goons, to change clothes. After literally watching Adonis strip down in front of him, Tony did not feel comfortable in his own skin anymore.

Okay, a quite scarred Adonis admittedly, but from the looks of it, even Wayne's muscles had muscles. Tony, on the other hand, had a two pack and a large, circular scar on his chest. No need for comparison there, thank you very much. After he, too, had covered his face with a mask, Stark voiced his disgust at the stale stench of the fabric. Bruce ignored his suffering and went to move the unconscious bodies out of their way instead.

“Would they be the people who also blew up your house?”

At that, Tony squinted in mistrust. “How would you... ahhh, no wait – gotcha! You're Mister Gotham Omnipresent. But no, sorry to burst your bubble there, Wayne, I don't think this has anything to do with the Mandarin disaster.” Bruce heaved up two bodies at once, seemingly unperturbed by the extra weight, threw them over each shoulder, and carried them into the back.  
  
“Whoever it may be is hell-bent on getting rid of you. You've surely made a couple of good friends along the way." His voice became a bit muffled as he disappeared for a moment. Stark harrumphed. "You don't say. _Your_ friends probably have gotten accustomed to the schizophrenic that you are." Coming back, Bruce paused his strenuous work and glared at him.  
  
“Schizophrenic?”  
Stark managed to look as much cocky as his current getup would allow him to.  
“Fool by day, MMA fighter at night. Preferably with a snug little, caped leather costume too?”

His smug intonation was met with an unexpected reaction as Wayne avoided his eyes. “I don't have the luxury of friends.” Before he could go back to finish the task, Bruce then saw Tony Stark reach out and assist in taking the legs of a tall, heavy goon. A lopsided grin was on his face. “Can't have you pull a muscle there.” Instead of gratitude, Wayne remained taciturn as they locked away the remaining terrorists.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Seeing the nerve-racking game of hide-and-seek had ended in their favor, they were able to move past several guards undeterred, until they ran straight into a patrol of six black-clad terrorists. “Chin up, chest out.” No sooner than Tony had hissed out his comment, one of them held up a hand. “Stop! Where are you headed?” Wayne drew his shoulders back even further.

“Securing deck 2.”  
His voice was crisp and passionless. Next to him, Tony unconsciously straightened up a little more.  
“Where's your radio?”  
  
The hostile leader eyed the empty space on each of their utility belts.  
“Connectivity problems, Sir.”  
The lie slipped from Stark's lips without a hitch.

“Go have them replaced asap.”  
The patrol commander eyed Wayne, to which the latter stood at attention.  
“Yes, Sir.”

After a very long moment, the man then raised his arm.  
“Hail Hydra.”

Hearts beating, they marched on to where a freight elevator gaped at them. Without hesitation, Tony slipped in, followed by Bruce. As soon as the doors closed, Stark leaned against the metal wall and released a breath. “Hail Hydra? Oh boy. Where do these weirdos always come from?!” Wayne inspected the buttons and eventually pressed one to which the elevator began to move downwards.

“Do the words _'I am Iron Man'_ ring any bells?” Stark rolled his eyes behind his balaclava. “Let's hear it for the Debbie Downer dressed in black, everyone. Seriously, you sound like a broken record there, B. How about we focus on what's important here and save the blame game for later?” The metal cube came to a smooth halt and while Tony gripped his rifle, Bruce did not.

“Where did you bring us?” Dimly neon-lit corridors stretched out to the left and the right. “Underbelly.” At Wayne's monosyllabic answer, Tony's mouth formed an indignant O while his brows furrowed. “Hey now, that was uncalled for! Not all of us can have abs of steel like you, the genetic freak. Pshh.” For a minuscule moment, Tony was certain Wayne was going to whack him with his -so far- unused rifle.

“Stay put, I'm going to check the surrounding areas.”

With Bruce on another of his stealthy recon trips, Tony gave Pepper another clandestine call. She picked up immediately, looking fairly composed. “Everything's quiet outside.” He nodded at her. "Do you have the lights switched off? The blinds pulled shut?” The redhead cast him a disbelieving glare. “Are you really asking me that?” He sighed. “I'm just worried about you, Pep.” She all but snorted.

“Well, I'm not the one running around facing armed terrorists or whatever they are!” Tony gave her one of his most enticing smiles. “Ah, no need to worry there, beautiful, I'm accompanied by rather powerful protection here.” At that, Pepper Potts' left eyebrow arched a few inches upwards. “Are you talking about Bruce Wayne or antiperspirant?” He bared his teeth at her in faux-amusement.

“Jury's still out. His personality does seem kinda dry, but whatever. Just wait until I get to tell you the real juicy stuff.”

“This is exactly the kind of statement I've learned to best ignore, speaking from past-time experiences.”

“Nah, this one's really good. But, later. Right now I'm supposed to,” Tony craned his neck to look at where Bruce Wayne's masked silhouette stood and gestured at him. “... milk something? No, it's... uh, Do the Hustle? Baby, you can drive my car? God, this guy is really bad at charade, let me tell you.” Pepper was left to blink at the blank screen when the call ended rather abruptly.

* * *

Passing by endless rows of facility rooms filled with freezers, huge and heavy looking industrial washers, trash compactors and the like, they arrived at the engine room. Before they were able to look at the huge table which mapped all the vessel's floors, commotion got them to retreat. Two patrols had just rounded up a group of scared looking on-board engineers, leading them away at gunpoint.

When the footsteps had faded out, Wayne motioned for Stark to wait once again and stole away into the shadows. After what seemed like forever, he reappeared and nodded for Tony to follow him over to a row of hatches. There, Bruce hunkered down to inspect one of the many vents below. Tony squatted down next to him. “They aren't standing guard for nothing. Try to get down in there and check. I'll keep watch.”

Stark peeked into the dark, gaping hole and back up at his company's emotionless expression.

“Why me?”

“You're short enough to fit through.”

Tony's eyes narrowed to slits.  
“Watch it, Waynester.”  
Impatient, Bruce rose and gave a little shove with his foot at Tony's backside.

“Get going, we don't have all day.”  
Stark glared at him through the eye slits of the balaclava.  
“Not one for team spirit there, are you.”

He took off the rifle slung around his torso and lowered himself into the narrow vent. Upon coming face to face with steel pipes that were hot to the touch, a claustrophobic feel set in. Tony hissed a curse when the sensitive skin on his wrist got in touch with the metal. In an instant, Wayne's masked head re-appeared above. “What?” Swallowing a wave of nausea, Tony grimaced.

“Nothing, just channeling my inner masochist here and got branded.”  
He continued to crawl down further, taking flat shallow breaths, until his feet touched the ground.  
“The eagle has landed.”

Down there, the electric crackle and hum of the nearby generator were palpable, and Tony's skin began to tingle under his uniform. He cowered down on the spot to be able to slide under a metal barrier and crawled on all fours until he came up to a bullet-proof glass front which separated him from the ARC. On the other end of the vent, Bruce Wayne kept an eye and an ear out for any approaching bystanders.

Movement from below caught his attention after a few more minutes, and he peeked down to watch Stark's dark figure reappear. He had taken off his mask, and Bruce frowned at the mop of curly hair that greeted him. Just then Tony craned his head and looked him square in the eye, wearing an alarmed expression. “There's a shitload of C4 down there.” The Gothamite took the news as unfazed as expected behind his mask.

“Define shitload.”  
Tony licked chapped lips and squinted up at him.  
“Enough to blow the whole ship apart!”

 


	8. Chapter 8

After Tony had crawled his way back up, Wayne assisted in pulling him up for the last few meters and handed him back his gun. Sweat pooled under their uniforms in the hot and humid engine room. Even if the ARC technology was environmental-friendly, it was huge and needed permanent cooling. Tony fanned himself with his mask and exhaled.

“From what I've seen, they can blow us up at any chance. A lot of energy in a very short time, and – kaboom. Pardon my French, but we're fucked.”

Much to his surprise, Bruce also pulled the balaclava off his head, exposing a set of flushed cheeks. “They are likely to set it off using an electrical detonator. We've got to find the source.” Stark watched him run his fingers through sweat-matted hair. Tony then spread his arms open wide. “It could be a friggin simple cell phone for all we know! Are we going to frisk each of these suckers for their mobiles or what?”

At the word mobile, Bruce Wayne' eyes narrowed in on him again, curious that time. “Is there a way for you to jam all potential connections with your device?” Tony raised his chin. “Why yes, but that would also limit our own abilities to call for help.” Wayne pursed his lips. “Once they decide to pull the trigger, which can be anytime, it'd be too late to call for help anyhow.” Pondering his objection, Stark eventually hummed along.

“Point taken. Except for this: It won't take these guys long to find out something's wrong. We gotta have a plan once I'm latching onto them. I'll give us five to ten minutes max until they know something's fishy.” Bruce scanned the corridor left and right before he spoke. “We're going to power down the reactor and divert its energy long enough to round up all terrorists.”

Stark looked at him like he had gone insane. “And then what? Play a few rounds of pinata or blind man's buff? You may not know, Wayne, but everything on this ship here gets powered by the ARC.” The other man left his lament without comment. “While you shut down the reactor, I'll head for the bridge and reclaim control of the ship. When I'm done, you restart the system so that we've got power to maneuver back ashore.”

Tony had to refrain from laughing out loud into his face. “Y'know, I'm usually not the number one source for micromanaging and stuff, but - the odds on that one are beyond shitty. How do we communicate during the time with no power or connectivity?”  
  
“We don't.”  
  
“Oh, we... great! Let me just fine-tune my telepathic abilities to know when, _or if,_ you're in position.”

The snort that escaped Tony's lips held honest concern, even if his comical gesture of putting both his index and middle fingers to his temples was anything but. Bruce shook his head. “I won't need longer than thirty minutes. You'll be fine.” Hazel eyes flickered to the rifle slung across Tony's chest. Stark followed his line of view. “Well yeah, piece of cake, really. Watch me _not_ shooting the bad guys, eh? That's gonna be a real doozy.”

Something strange then happened. Bruce almost actually smiled. He caught himself the very last second, however, and tampered it down to a lopsided smirk. Instead, he reached into his jumpsuit pocket, only to push something into Tony's hand seconds later. “I trust you to do the right thing when the situation calls for it.” Tony looked down at what was a new magazine for his rifle and frowned.  
  
“Why would I need another one?”  
Bruce donned his balaclava again.  
“No, it _is_ yours.”  
  
A glimpse into the empty magazine port of his machine gun proved Wayne was right. “Wait, wait, wait a minute, you fucker – you would've let me run around with an empty rifle?! What... what kind of sick lunatic are you?!” He received no answer as the other billionaire stole away soundlessly into the corridors. Left to himself muttering foul expletives, Stark reloaded the rifle and moved for the control panel.

Skimming over temp gauges and a multitude of monitors, he cracked his knuckles and fumbled for his StarkPhone.  
  
“What I wouldn't give to have Jarvis on standby now.”

* * *

As expected, the whole ship fell dark seven minutes after Bruce and Tony had parted ways.

Even without his suit or gadgets, the Gothamite moved along the many decks with agility and speed. As opposed to his attackers, Bruce saw and heard everything, even if it was pitch-black all around him. On his way up to the captain's deck, he took every opportunity to strike down any terrorist patrol that crossed his path, leaving them behind disarmed and immobilized with their own handcuffs and ropes.

Despite being fast and efficient, Bruce was feeling the burn in his lungs halfway through the endless hallways of the Splendor of Opulence. The vessel was huge, and he operating under pressure. After a while, he eventually peeled the balaclava up above his nose mid-run, to be able to breathe freely. Only fifteen minutes left to make it to the helm. He increased his speed even more; pushing his free-runner abilities to the max.

* * *

“Stupid Batguy.”  
  
Muttering to himself, Tony cursed as his shin encountered yet another steel pipe in the darkness. Using the flashlight from his phone was no option; he would be the sitting duck to any possible attacker heading his way. By now, thirteen minutes and forty seconds had passed, and the Stark Industries' satellites were still doing their job as he had programmed them to.

With minor programming effort on his part, they were emitting subtle jamming signals to all electronic devices on board that featured the same bandwidth. Him doing his job meant all of them were still alive, and there had been no swarms of terrorists coming at him so far. It subsequently meant that Bruce Wayne had been doing his job as well, even if his time frame was slowly coming to an end.

Tony glimpsed at his mobile's timer once again when a window popped up, indicating an incoming call.

“Pep, hi. How are...”

“Tony, we have total power outage!”  
He tried to keep his face and voice upbeat.  
“Yup, that's part of the plan. Don't worry, it'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“What kind of stupid plan is that?!”  
A shark-like grin from behind his goatee.  
“Oh, it was Bruce's.”  
  
Pepper Potts tried her best to stay neutral and failed.  
“You let Bruce Wayne decide to turn off the reactor? Are you completely off your rocker, Anthony Edward Stark?”  
A lopsided grimace. Full name was always bad with her.  
  
“Well, he is...”

“I don't care what he is – _you_ are out of your mind! Where are you right now?”  
  
“Bruce is heading for the bridge, and I'm in the engine room.”  
  
_“..._ _Tony!”_  
Her incredulous expression was framed by the blueish hues of her phone's background light.  
“What!? You think I should go and help him?”  
  
Before Pepper could find remotely proper words, he nodded along at his own question.  
  
“Maybe you're right. That poor boy needs me.”  
Looking at the rifle slung around his waist, Tony clicked his tongue.  
“I'm just gonna get me something with a little more style first.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Humming along the A-Team theme, Tony set out to work in a secluded chamber of the engine room.

With the help of Teflon tape, PVC pipes, nuts, washers, bolts and valves, he assembled a rough construct. Getting a suitable fire hose nozzle, air vents and mufflers proved to be a little difficult, but once his Stark-special design was done, Tony squatted down and hoisted the over 5 feet long item up on his shoulder. Shrugging into the shoulder straps, he attached the Velcro straps across his body and gave it a first test run.

The powerful surge almost had him topple over backward, but upon seeing the fist-sized dent inside the metal wall, Tony nodded to himself.  
  
“Showtime.”

* * *

The bridge lay in silence as he entered it.

Lightheaded from his prolonged sprint and fighting marathon, Bruce took a few deep breaths to try and normalize his vitals before he slid into the captain's chair. Having never maneuvered a vessel as large as the cruise liner, his eyes skimmed across the many instruments. To his left was the machine automation system, giving him all the technical aspects of the Splendor on one monitor.

It was flashing the words 'stand-by' at him, so Bruce pressed a few switches he assumed would get the system back online. In the middle, the electronic navigation system also loaded a few seconds later. Reading the GPS data, it occurred to him how they were still on pre-set course.

After finding out there was a difference of the heading the ship was steering and the heading they were actually sailing, Bruce had to switch places and go for one of the two navigators' empty seats. An eye out on the overhead monitors, he began to set the bow thrusters up at moderate speed, to avoid any jerking movements that would harm the passengers.

The change of direction was not palpable, but from the readouts, they were slowly but steadily going through the motions of a huge u-turn. Until the monitor blinked. _'Manual assistance required. Dynamic positioning controls fail.'_ Bruce glowered at the error message on the screen. It did not take him long to find out that the actual helm was not in close proximity, but rather further up front, sitting in a small aisle just below the bridge.

With an agile jump, he was at the car-sized steering wheel and clasped the leather handles. Outside, it was still dark, even if the sunrise already loomed up. Even if he tried to gauge from the faint strip of the horizon in the distance, Bruce had to turn the wheel on instinct, unable to be in two places at once. As soon as the helm did not react to his commands anymore, he proceeded to climb back up and check the controls again.

When he came back up, he heard the faint click of a gun being cocked and stilled.

“Don't move, asshole.”

* * *

Following Bruce's path of destruction was pretty easy. Tony felt a bit like Hansel and Gretel; except for going after breadcrumbs, he was stepping over bound and gagged piles of out cold terrorists instead. Finger on the trigger and palm supporting the large nozzle, he sneaked forward to point his gun into an elevator that was thankfully empty. Blowing out his cheeks Tony stepped inside and pressed the button for deck 10.

He rolled his eyes at the stupid elevator music that accompanied him for a good two minutes. After the doors opened with a soft ding, he pressed himself up the wall to peek around left and right. Nobody was in sight, and Tony shifted the heavy artillery on his back in dismay. He was wearing a good 70 pounds on his back, and his muscles and joints were starting to feel the extra workout by now.

Rubbing his forearm across his sweated forehead, Tony glimpsed at the little neon-lit sign reading 'Bridge' and the arrow pointing right. From afar, he then saw the commotion up in the glass-framed cubicle and stepped out of view behind a huge indoor tub filled with plants. “Only goons he's gotta miss and they're up here.” Refastening his hold on his gun, Tony narrowed his eyes and peeked around the big-leafed plants.

“Here goes nothing.”

His boots made next to no sounds on the carpeted floors as he moved in, index and middle finger around the trigger. The three terrorists were just drawing their guns and getting into firing positions. They had their backs on him, and that was when Tony made his move.

“Here's Johnny!”  
  
Before any of the bad guys were able to turn around, a sharp jet of water propelled their bodies through the air like rag dolls, until they slammed into the nearest wall. From where he had pressed himself flat to the ground to avoid the brunt of the stream, Bruce looked up, a disbelieving frown between his brows. Standing in the doorway, wielding some strange, huge makeshift gun around, Stark grinned like a madman.

“Thought you could use some backup of the ass-kicking kind. Your Schizoman's got nothing on me.”

* * *

Together they were able to maneuver the cruise liner into the right direction; with Bruce at the helm and Tony supervising the dynamic positioning controls up above. Once they were done, Tony Stark got himself one of the Segways in the corner, meant for crew members, and went to round up all the bad guys. It was a hilarious picture that presented itself to Bruce when Stark came back from his hunting spree.

Held at air-pressure-water-gunpoint, the sodden terrorists ended up pressed against each other like sardines high up in the mechanical observation capsule; upon Tony's explicit wish. “Stark-Wayne one, bad guys zero.” Satisfied, Tony cocked out his hip and dipped the dripping air compressor water gun upon his shoulder. “Room with a view, assholes.”

Walking back to the bridge across the vast heliport, Bruce gave the Jerry-rigged, two-tank construction strapped onto Tony's back another mistrusting glare. “That was not what we discussed.” Stark cocked the weapon's muzzle up and stepped into Wayne's way, prompting him to stop walking. “Oh, shush it Mister Grumpypants. You needed me up here. I saved your heinie. S'alright, you don't have to thank me – I know I'm good.”

About to strike a hero-esque pose, Tony accidentally pressed down on the water gun's trigger. The air compressor gave a loud fizzling noise, bordering on empty, then set off. A huge fountain of water, albeit minimally pressured, doused the Gothamite from head to toe. The tank then sputtered and died, leaving behind an awkward silence as neither man moved or said a word at first.

Dripping wet, Wayne slowly ran a palm over his face and glowered at his contrite looking opposite.  
A slow, cat-ate-the-canary grin then wormed its way upon Tony's lips.  
“Oops.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credits for 'The A-Team' theme go to Mike Post  
> (oh, the memories of a fandom long gone *lesigh*)


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as the Splendor of Opulence had arrived in front of the Floridian port, harbor patrols surrounded them with emergency warning lights and wailing sirens. A helicopter with searchlights thundered up above, circling the vessel. At the same time, lifeboats were lowered to pile the stressed-out passengers into, most of them wearing life jackets. Some were crying, most were glad to just be able to get away unharmed.

From their vantage point high up on the bridge, Tony brushed the back of his hand against his forehead. “Guess the cruise line market is not a branch either of us is going to be eager to invest in any further. This huge crapfest is gonna get us real bad reviews on cruisecritics.com.” Bruce kept an eye out of the windows to make sure all lifeboats lowered at a proper speed. From time to time, a searchlight beam grazed his silhouette.  
  
“At least no one's gotten food poisoning.”  
  
It may have been a general lack of sleep or the piled up adrenaline, but his dry comment caused Tony to break out into hysterical laughter.  
  
“Fuck, you know what? Let's get this straight here...”  
He walked up to where Bruce stood, prompting the other man to look at him with a quizzical frown.  
“... I'm not.”  
  
Without warning, Stark grabbed him by the collar of his dripping wet Hydra uniform and sealed their lips. After not being met with any kind of resistance, Tony drew back after a few seconds and licked the corners of his mouth. His jaunty actions prompted the amused quirk of an eyebrow. “Of all things, I didn't peg you a homosexual.” Tony clicked his tongue with a smirk while his fingers played with the zipper of Bruce's overall.  
  
“Bisexual with a touch of sapiosexual. I'm turned on by intelligence. Yours came a bit... surprising.”  
Wayne's brows and lips curled with something akin to exasperation.  
“I'll take that as a compliment.”  
  
Stark hummed with a glint of mischief in his eyes.  
“You should.”  
Meek amusement hushed over chiseled features.  
  
“So that's your kink? Intelligence?”  
Tony's eyes flickered to his mouth.  
“Say something smart and I'll show you.”  
  
The tip of Wayne's tongue appeared to run over wet lips, to which Stark's eyes lingered on.  
“You seem to be of the cheiloproclic kind.”  
Tony's gaze darkened with lust.  
  
“That'll do.”  
  
When he leaned in once again, Bruce met him halfway.

* * *

“As CEO of Stark Industries, I can assure you that we are absolutely planning on reimbursing all parties involved in this unfortunate incident.”

With an all-professional smile and dignified nod, Pepper Potts then stepped back from the podium and left the press conference to head back inside the cruise center. Upon her entry into one of the many secluded office rooms, two expectant pairs of brown eyes looked up at her with curiosity. The lighter pair held a tinge of sympathy, while the darker ones sparkled with mischief.

“I have spoken with Lucius. We will cover half of the arising claims.” She tilted her head. “I've expected nothing else from you, Bruce. You might just be the good influence Tony needs.” At that, said billionaire perked up from where he was slouching on the couch, feet propped up on the table. His hand continued to rake lazy patterns across the Gothamite's thigh that rested against his.

“I'm un-influenceable.”  
  
All saccharine, Pepper smiled at him, fiery arrows flying his way from behind long eyelashes. “I think a certain vigilante is going to have a say in this matter in the future. At least I hope he does.” The pointed, withering look she cast Wayne made him avert his eyes, clear his throat and look down at the floor. “Even if he owes me a new cellphone as of late.” Her heels clicked away on polished tiles before the door fell shut behind her.

When Tony made funny noises of a bomb dropping down, Bruce cast him a look that spoke volumes.  
  
“This is all your fault.”  
Stark put to fingers to his soul patch and scratched.  
“No way buddy. She's smart, what did you expect.”

Wayne glowered at his cheeky shrug.  
“You to be more subtle, most of all.”  
Like a picture of innocence, Tony batted his lashes.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning not sending her a 'Guess who's making out with Batman now' text.”

“Oh. That.”

“M-hm.”

“Blame the endorphins. You're a great kisser.”

“I had to delete the whole operating software from both of your mobiles.”

“I forgive you. Pep will, too.”

“That wasn't the point.”

“Wasn't?”

“No.”

“Hmm...”  
Tony sat up straighter with an intense look of concentration between his brows.  
“How about we discuss this later? I'm in dire need of a couple more of those endorphins.”  
  


**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abort ship! Abort ship!! This fic has sailed, for better or for worse, lol. 
> 
> Thank you guys for sticking around to read and kudo and/or comment, despite the (rather ridiculous) outcome xD


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